Embrace Me
by polrobin
Summary: This came about from a discussion on the GW Family thread about the great hug Sam and Jack shared in Threads. Somebody, I don’t remember who, asked us to think of other times they might have shared that kind of hug. This is my response. S/J.
1. Embrace Me

A/N: This came about from a discussion on the GW Family thread about the great hug Sam and Jack shared in _Heroes_. Somebody, I don't remember who, asked us to think of other times they might have shared that kind of hug. This is my response. I'm beginning to think this is the beginning of yet another series. Hmmm. As always, I save, savor, and answer all reviews left with an email and/or reply option.

Set at the end of _In the Line of Duty_.

_**- - - - **_

_**Embrace Me**_

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Jack O'Neill's slowed his normally brisk stride as he approached the infirmary. He paused just outside of the open door, listening carefully to the sounds of the staff moving around inside. The telltale clickity-clackety of Doc Fraiser's tiny shoes gave her position away and he waited for her to pass the doorway and head into her office before he stepped inside.

Nodding the nurses and staff he'd come to know well over the last two years, O'Neill carefully made his way to the curtained-off bed at the far end of the hospital wing. As he neared it, he waved off one nurse who moved to intercept him. Giving her a firm headshake, he gestured toward Carter's bed and then, for good measure, pointed to his collar, where the subdued embroidered eagle of his rank insignia could clearly be seen. She frowned, glancing over her shoulder at Fraiser's office, then looked back at him. Finally she gave a soft sigh and handed over the small paper cup she'd been carrying.

O'Neill took it from her, noting the two white capsules inside. He nodded again to the nurse, letting her know he'd take care of it. He waited for her to turn and leave, her white shoes allowing her to move soundlessly across the floor. Jack glanced down at the small paper cup again, then stepped forward and eased open the curtain surrounding his Second. His silent exchange with the nurse had worked to his benefit, she didn't seem aware of his presence. Jack allowed himself a moment of self-indulgent pleasure as he looked at her, drinking in the sight of Samantha Carter, alive and breathing once again.

Sam sat perched on the edge of the hospital, her long legs dangling down and her sneakered feet barely brushing the floor. Her arms hung at her sides and her hand lay limp in her lap, unmoving. Sam's face mirrored her posture, her expression bleak as she continued to deal with the pain and loss following Jolinar's death inside of her own body.

Jack shuddered slightly as he thought of it. The idea of sharing so...much...and so unwillingly.... He hated that the snake, _Tok'ra_, he though bitterly. That the Tok'ra had been able to easily infiltrate them and that of all people it had taken over his...his...Second. His Captain. His...Sam. _No, Jack, not _your_ Sam. Everybody's Sam. Nothing about her can ever be strictly_ _yours. _Jack closed his eyes for a moment, unprepared for the wave of longing that followed that thought.

"Sir?"

Sam's voice was barely above a whisper, but it still startled him. He looked up to see her regarding him, a faintly confused expression on her face. Jack offered her a small smile and stepped all the way into the cubicle, letting the curtain fall closed behind him.

"I, ah..." Jack thrust forward the paper cup containing her pills. "These are for you."

She automatically reached out to take the cup from him, her puzzled expression increasing. "I...thank you, Colonel. Daniel brought me flowers." She set the cup next to the small vase of daisies on the stand next to her.

"No, Carter." Jack moved forward again, retrieving the cup of pill with one hand and lifting the small plastic cup of water with the other. "Nurse...oh, I don't know...Ratchet? These are from her."

For the first time in days Sam smiled fleetingly. "I know Sir, I was just..." Sam sighed and accepted both medication and water from him, making quick work of both.

Jack set both empty containers aside and sat in the chair adjacent to the bed. "Carter... _Sam_. I...ah hell." Running a frustrated hand through his hair, Jack struggled to find the words he wanted to say. Before he could continue, though, Sam interrupted.

"I...thank you, Colonel."

"For what?"

Sam shifted uncomfortably on the bed, the fingers of one hand playing with the fraying edge of the worn hospital blanket. She surreptitiously glanced around to make sure nobody was nearby, then whispered, "For being here for me." Her wide blue eyes were still shadowed with a pain that tugged at his heart.

Jack sat back in the chair, surprised. He didn't think she'd known he was there. That he'd been here, in this chair, every night since she'd been...since Jolinar. He'd come each night after the eleven pm shift change and stayed until just before Fraiser had come on duty at seven each morning, just watching her sleep.

Watching her breathe.

For the first time in years, Jack had had cause to be grateful for his Black Ops experience; slipping into the semi-dark room without the staff being aware was a cakewalk. With Sam on monitors the nursing staff had no need to constantly monitor her, so she–and subsequently he–had been left undisturbed for hours. Jack told himself repeatedly that he would do the same for any member of his team, but deep down he knew better. He knew that he wouldn't sleep in his own quarters, and certainly not at home, while she was here, battling her demons.

Once or twice each night she had whimpered in her sleep and prompting him to ease forward to place a soothing hand on her hand or her arm. Just that simple touch seemed to have grounded her and she would quickly slide into a deeper, more restful sleep. Jack had been certain that Carter was unaware of his visits, he'd hoped so. Commanding officer's did not set up camp at wounded team member's bedsides every night. For two weeks. Especially when that wounded team member was not in mortal danger. Not as a rule. However, something about SG1 in general–and Samantha Carter specifically–defied the rules. Some of them. And Jack was beginning to hate the rules that couldn't be defied. Finally, he sighed and gently cleared his throat and nodded. "I...I'm just really glad you're okay, Carter."

"I don't know if I am, Sir." Sam ducked her head and covered her face with her hands.

Sam's broken confession was accompanied by a soft sniffle and Jack simply couldn't take it. Rules or no rules, he had to..._needed_ to...comfort her. Grateful for the curtain that blocked her bed from the intrusive but necessary security cameras, he rose and stepped to the edge of the bed. "C'mere." Gently easing her hands from her face, Jack pulled Sam off of the bed, trapping her between him and it. He released her hands only to wrap his arms around her, tucking her head into his shoulder. He slid one hand up into her hair, holding her firmly while the other slid down to her waist, pulling her snugly against him.

It was a measure of Sam's distress and unhappiness that she, without question or hesitation, melted into his embrace with a soft sob. Her arms slid under his open BDU overshirt, her hands tightly clutched the T-shirt underneath. It was that spasmodic clenching and unclenching that did it for Jack. In that moment, whatever he might have told himself and whatever justification he might have offered if questioned, he lost his heart.

Completely.

Utterly.

He bent his head and buried his face in her neck, breathing deeply the warm, slightly sweet scent that was Samantha Carter as he choked back his own tears. Jack tightened his hold as all of the fear and anger he'd felt when he had realized what she had been taken by, and what she had become rose to the surface. Add to that how powerless he was to save her and Jack, for the first time, acknowledged what he would have lost had Sam not been saved. He began rocking them both, an unconscious move to comfort coming as naturally as it had when he'd held his crying son years before.

Eventually her sobs eased and she began to slowly extricate herself from his embrace. Jack reluctantly let her go, knowing that he needed to. Professional relationship aside, he sensed that Sam was returning to herself. She'd needed to cry and he had been available. He had been there for her. Just as he would continue to be. He was her CO, and it was his job. Just as it was his job to never let her see what he felt. Never let her know how lost he would have been if... Jack quirked a small smile at her as he stepped back, trailing his hands down her arms to steady her as she climbed back onto the bed.

"Better," he asked?

Sam looked up at him, her blue eyes still swimming, but her gaze steadier, stronger than it had been. She kept her eyes on his face, her expression open and guileless, every emotion there for him to read. "Yes, Sir. Thank you. Again."

"Glad I could be there for you, Carter." Jack looked away, struggling to put some space between them. "Guess it was time. Might have been Daniel, or–"

"Sir." This time it was Sam who reached out, her hand warm on his shoulder, her fingers gently brushing his neck. "I wouldn't have...I couldn't have.... I needed it to be you." She sighed as her hand slipped away, her fingers tracing the shape of the embroidered eagle on his collar. She gave him a last open and emotion-laden look before dropping her hand to her lap.

Jack held her gaze, leaving his feelings on the surface for her to read, and when she nodded he knew. He might have decided he didn't want her to see, but that hadn't stopped her from seeing anyway. From knowing. They exchanged slightly rueful smiles as each acknowledged what had been shared and what now had to be put aside.

For now.

The telltale clicking sound of Fraiser's heels approaching warned them both that their moment of solitude was coming to an end. Jack rose and brushed his hand down Sam's arm once more before stepping back. "I'm glad, Sam." She glanced up and he added quickly, just before the curtain was swept back. "I'm glad it was me."

He nodded to Fraiser as she entered the small space, clipboard in hand. The Doc's attention was on her notes so she barely acknowledged Jack's leaving and probably didn't hear Sam's soft voice as he strode away.

"Always. Sir."


	2. Moving On

A/N: After a long delay due to travel, Campfires, and other commitments, another "embraceable" moment. This one's for Amanda who kept asking for the next story, and thanks to Cags who gave me the prompt a while back. Enjoy. Feedback, as always, if helpful, saved, and answered.

Set following _The First Commandment_.

_**- - - - **_

_**Moving On**_

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Jack walked slowly down the long sunken cement walkway that ran along the side of the great Academy Chapel, glancing occasionally out as the sun danced across tree-swathed hills edging the cadet area. He checked his watch. Just after six-fifteen. He knew Carter was around, he'd seen her car in the visitor's lot outside of the Chapel when he'd driven by. Taken by a sudden impulse, he's swung his truck into the lot and parked next to her vintage Volvo. Since it was relatively late in the day on a Saturday he didn't think he'd find her in Harmon Hall, the admin building nearest the parking lot. Since she also wasn't in the honor court, he wandered toward the large steel and glass structure of the Academy Chapel.

It wasn't often that he came here, this far back onto the base. The main part of the Academy's grounds, the cadet area, was tucked so far back against the base of the mountain that he simply didn't bother. He hadn't attended school here so had no warm fuzzy memories of the place. To him it was almost a tourist attraction, although he could see the draw when looking through the larger ecumenical Chapel upstairs.

It was the perfect time of day to be here, he thought. The late afternoon summer sunlight lit the modern stained glass of the Chapel's walls and ceiling, giving the room an almost unearthly glow. He'd glanced around the empty Chapel knowing he wouldn't find her up here, but he'd wanted to make sure. Following a hunch he'd walked back down the wide sweeping steps of the Chapel and then continued on down along the lower level to where he was now. He'd been here once before, and if he remembered correctly...yup.

Jack stopped before the wooden door set into the wall. It was already opened slightly and he pushed it the rest of the way, stepping inside to the cool interior. To his immediate left was a small room lit by a single candle, simple black mats laid out along the polished bamboo floor. The Buddhist temple. On his right was the simple elegance of the round Jewish temple, another single lamp hanging just at the front providing the only illumination in that quiet room. Walking further inside, Jack made sure to leave the door open behind him, allowing the afternoon sunlight to fill the hallway with light. Just past the temple was the door to the Catholic chapel and it was there that he was sure he'd find her.

Easing open the heavy door he scanned the room, his eyes adjusting to the dim light and finally spotting the golden head of his Second lit by the Presence lamp hanging near the altar. Jack squinted. She was kneeling in the pew, her head bent low over her hands. For a moment he hesitated, unwilling to interrupt her if she was praying. This was probably a bad idea. Jack studied Carter, talking himself out of disturbing her when he noticed her shoulders shaking slightly. Whatever thought he'd had for leaving slipped away as instinct took over. He slipped inside and let the door fall closed behind him.

Once inside, muscle memory took over. He automatically dipped his hand into the holy water and crossed himself, then just as automatically dipped to one knee as he came to the pew in which Carter was kneeling. She looked over at him, her eyes wide with surprise. Jack wasn't certain if the surprise was for his appearance or his apparently knowing what to do when in a Catholic church.

"Sir?" Sam brushed quickly at her cheeks, hoping to hide the evidence of her recent tears. She'd been restless and irritable all day, her first Saturday free following their return and Jonas Hanson's death. After cleaning her little house from top to bottom, she'd spent several fruitless hours trying to write a paper on wormhole theory before giving it up as a lost cause. Even a five-mile run hadn't helped. She'd finally given up and gotten into her car, intending to go into the SGC and lose herself in work. Instead she'd found herself waving her ID at the guard and driving onto the sprawling grounds of the Air Force Academy.

Most people didn't realize just how big the Academy's grounds were. At just over 18-thousand acres, the facility, an Air Force base in its own right, was sprawled against the base of the Rockies. The cadet area, the place Sam had spent the first four years of her higher education, was tucked at the back and only a tiny portion of the larger base. Sam often came out to hike or to ride her bike, but today she just came to...be. After a leisurely drive through the grounds she'd parked in the visitor's lot just above the famous Chapel and wandered where her feet would take her.

They'd taken her here.

Sam realized her CO hadn't spoken, that he was simply sitting beside her and watching her. "Colonel? What are you doing here?" She eased up off of the kneeler and slid onto the well worn seat beside him.

"I was...well, believe it or not, Carter. I was in the neighborhood."

Sam's eyebrows rose. The Academy was northwest of the city of Colorado Springs and the Colonel's house was...Sam frowned. She wasn't really sure just where he lived but she had a feeling it wasn't on the base. Or...was it?

"You...you don't live on the base, do you, Sir?"

O'Neill quirked a smile at her. "Um...no." He leaned back, letting his arms drop over the back of the pew and stretching his neck back. He yawned and looked up at the ceiling. "I needed some things from the BX."

"Oh." Sam fiddled with the worn book in her hands. "The BX isn't..."

"Yeah." O'Neill shrugged. "I was taking the long way off-base and spotted your car." He glanced at the book she was holding and then very gently eased it out of her hands. "This Hanson's Bible?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Hmm."

Sam watched as he opened it, slowly thumbing through the pages. She knew just when he found what she'd written inside of the front cover. She saw his long fingers stop and then gently trace over the words she'd inscribed years before. When he looked up she met his gaze.

"Carter...you doing okay?"

"Yes, Sir."

He gestured toward the book in his hands. "What's going on with this, then?"

"I...it was a gift. For Jonas. He...we dated here. At the Academy. Well, not really. I mean, we weren't allowed to date, per se. You know. But...just after, when I was going on to do my post-graduate work, we dated. Long distance, since I was in England and he was in Japan at the time. He...I'm pretty sure he did it to please Dad, or that's what I always thought. He took the classes and converted to Catholicism. We were going to get married here."

"It was important to you?"

"It was. At one time. Then. Not so much now." Her eyes dropped from his. "He, um...later. He tried to use what was in there to..."

"Control you."

"Yes, Sir." Sam's voice was barely a whisper. "I wish...I wish you hadn't found this, Colonel."

"Wishing won't make it better, Carter. If I had known it would hurt you, I would have left it lost."

Sam sighed and leaned back, realizing as she did so that with O'Neill's arm along the back of the pew she was effectively tucked against his body. She couldn't bring herself to move. She'd had such a rotten week. Sam ducked her head against the tears that threatened, reliving again the moment she'd had Jonas in her sights. Reliving the sickening twist in her gut as he'd spoken to her, slowly walking forward, his eyes never leaving hers, reaching up to take the gun from her nerveless fingers. That memory was followed by the more painful of his fist backhanding her. Unconsciously she reached up to touch her still-healing cheek, a move that didn't go unnoticed by her CO.

"How's the cheek, Sam?"

"It's getting better, Sir. Fraiser put some butterfly bandages on it and says there shouldn't even be a scar."

"Good to know."

They sat together in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Sam relaxed deeper into the seat, feeling the effects of the last week catching up with her. Suddenly she was tired. Really, really tired. She started as O'Neill spoke up softly.

"It's getting late, Carter. You heading home?"

"Yes, Sir." Sam slide sideways, following him out of the pew. Together they genuflected before turning to walk back to the door. Just before the small stone basin containing the holy water, O'Neill stopped, resting a hand on Sam's arm.

"Carter."

"Sir?" Sam looked up, weariness in every line of her body now. The anxious and jittery feelings she'd had during the day had left, leaving her drained and emotional. Vulnerable. It really was time for her to go home. She needed to be in her own home.

O'Neill slowly held out the small, tattered Bible. "You want this? Or should I 'lose' it for you?"

Sam said nothing. She dropped her eyes from his and studied the book in his hand. It had once been important to her, the gift she'd given the man she thought she would marry. It had symbolized her acceptance of his commitment to her, to her faith. She'd imagined he would read it often and even think of her as he did so, that the simple act of sharing that faith would bring them closer together. Even then, she now understood, she'd known that their relationship was lacking...something.

"I...could you...it seems so..."

"Carter," O'Neill breathed, his voice soft in the silence of the sacred chamber. "It's okay for you to not want it, you know." He paused, then reached out and lifted her chin. His brown eyes were dark in the dim light of the room. "It's also okay for you to grieve. If nothing else, Jonas Hanson was someone whom you once loved."

Sam bit back a sob. She hadn't been able to cry, not really. Even the small tears she'd shed earlier hadn't felt real. Doctor Fraiser had told her she was in shock, to give it time, but Sam hadn't felt like it. She'd felt...numb. Then anxious. Then...now... The Colonel's words broke something loose in her and Sam felt suddenly overwhelmed with everything she'd wanted to feel before but couldn't.

Tears.

Anger.

Frustration.

Guilt.

Pain.

She closed her eyes and swayed as everything broke over her at once, battering her defenses and nearly bringing her to her knees.

O'Neill dropped the small Bible and it fell to the carpet with a muffled thump as he caught his Captain in his arms. "C'mere," he murmured as she began to sob.

Aware only of the need for something–or someone–solid to which she could hang on, Sam clutched at his arms, not resisting as he pulled her into a tight embrace. She wrapped her arms around him and clung, one hand spasming on his shoulder as her other splayed across the back of his neck, her fingers lost in the soft threads of his hair. She sobbed as he held her, anchoring her to the here and now, piecing her soul back together. She felt his arms squeeze tighter, one hand tucking her head securely under his chin, the other gently sliding up and down her back, chasing away the shivers that quaked through her frame.

"Easy, Carter. Easy. Shh. I've got you. It's okay. It's okay."

O'Neill's soft words worked their magic on her, just as the strength and feel of his arms around her grounded her. Sam slowly stopped crying, realizing eventually that she'd soaked the front of her CO's shirt. As the storm of emotions subsided she felt a flush of embarrassment wash through her. "I...oh, Sir. I'm sorry."

"Carter." O'Neill eased back, his hands still on her arms. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a small, folded handkerchief. "Here."

"Thanks, Sir." Sam took the soft cloth and sheepishly wiped her face. The handkerchief smelled like him. She couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes.

"Carter."

Still avoiding his gaze, Sam busied herself with wiping her face and getting her breathing under control. Only when he reached again for her elbows did she finally look up.

"Ca– _Sam_." O'Neill gave her a small smile. "I meant it. It's okay, you know." He gave her elbows a squeeze and stepped back, carefully easing the small Bible to one side with his foot. "And, it's okay to lean on a friend once in a while."

"I..." Sam sighed. "Thank you, Colonel."

"Any time."

Sam absently pocketed O'Neill's handkerchief before dipping her hand into the holy water. She crossed herself and then waited for O'Neill to do the same. Once he had, she stepped outside of the chapel and waited while he secured the door. Together they walked to the outer door. When Sam reached it, however, she was surprised to see the Colonel moving back toward the small chapel. She watched as he took out a pen and scrawled a quick note on one of the small pieces of paper beside the offering bowls. He slid the note under the door of the chapel and quickly returned to her side.

"Ready?"

Giving him a puzzled look, she nodded. They left the lower portion of the Chapel and made their way to the parking lot in silence. It was dark now, and the lights that lit the honor court cast the bronzed statues in an eerie light. Sam unconsciously moved closer to the Colonel, then frowned as she realized what she was doing. She quickly moved to step away from him, only to be stopped when he tugged her closer as they crossed the darkened quad.

"Stay close, Carter. This place gives me the creeps at night."

For the first time in days Sam bit back a small smile. "Yes, Sir."

When they reached their cars, Sam stopped and leaned against her door. She tucked her hands into her pockets, suddenly reluctant to end their time together. Remembering his actions as they left the building she asked him, "Sir? What did you write? On the note?"

"Oh." O'Neill looked down for a moment, then back up at her. He leaned against the passenger door of his truck, mirroring her pose. "I, ah...I left a note for Father. Told him that we...uh...you were donating the Bible that was sitting just inside the door." He peered at her in the gathering darkness. "I just assumed...if you're upset, we can get it back tomorrow."

Sam studied him for a moment, then felt a smile pull across her lips. They hadn't worked together for very long, but the time they _had_ spent together had forged a bond. A closeness. A...something that Sam didn't quite know how to identify it. She knew that before they'd gone to 'rescue' Jonas' team she'd barely had time to come to grips with the fact that she'd singled this man out as her 'mate' when taken over by the Broca virus. Before that he'd rescued her from a Mongolian tribal leader only to let her fight that same leader in a duel to the death. She knew O'Neill was a great team leader, but she was also discovering that he was a great _man_ as well. No, they didn't know each other all that well yet, but he knew enough to help her to say goodbye. To help her to let go.

Warmth flooded through her as she thought back to the hug he'd given her inside the chapel. How safe she'd felt, how...secure...how.... She wanted that again. She knew she shouldn't, knew it wasn't proper, but she couldn't help it. She...she wanted that again. She shook her head.

O'Neill, misinterpreting her movement, sounded apologetic. "Carter? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have–"

She interrupted him. "Sir? Did you mean it?"

"Did I...? Yes, we can get it back tomo–"

"No, Sir. Did you mean it that it's okay for me to...that I can..."

"Oh." O'Neill pushed himself off of his truck and opened his arms. "Yes. I meant it."

Sam leaned into his solid form and once again found herself tucked securely under his chin. She breathed deeply and inhaled the warm, slightly spicy scent of his aftershave mixed with the clean smell of his shirt. She squeezed tightly and was gratified to feel him do the same in return. After a long moment she pulled back and offered him a shy, quiet smile. "Thank you, Colonel."

"For...?"

Sam shrugged. "For...taking the long way home today." She opened her car door and slid inside, rolling down the window she could talk to him. "For helping me to let go." As she started the car and began to pull away she leaned out, giving him one last shy smile. "And for being my friend."

As Sam drove off into the night, O'Neill slowly made his way around to the driver's side of his truck, watching as the Volvo's lights disappeared over the hill. "Always," he said softly as he climbed inside, started the engine and left Chapel behind, silhouetted against the starry night sky.

- -

End.

- -

Afterword: I'll be rearranging these stories after they've been posted a while so that they reflect the proper episode order.


	3. Just Right

A/N: Just an idea that popped into my head and made me giggle. I guess it's really part of the _Embrace Me_ stories, so I'll put it there. Reviews are an author's only pay!

Set on a planet and mission of my own choosing, in Season 4, after _Divide and Conquer_. I really think Seasons 3 and 4 are the lightest, most fun seasons of Stargate. And the shippiest.

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_**Just Right**_

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The slight shuffling sound of their footsteps echoed across the large, dimly lit cavern. Daylight filtered in the doorway behind them, it's brilliance lessened by the many twists and turns of the passageway they'd walked to find this room. Sam Carter shrugged her shoulders, fighting the instinctive urge to duck. She knew the ceiling of the roughly-cut chamber was high above her, she'd checked with the light on her P-90 as they'd entered. Despite that reassurance, she still found herself hunching slightly as they moved deeper into the wide, dark cavity. She could feel Teal'c's warm, solid presence at her left shoulder and knew that if she reached out to her right she'd find the Colonel beside her as well. Just up ahead was Daniel, his focus already narrowed on the symbols set into the stones at their feet.

"Keep your eye on the Indian scout," O'Neill murmured into her ear as he stepped past her to join Teal'c.

Sam nodded, despite knowing that he'd miss the gesture in the darkness. She stepped closer to Daniel, careful to keep her light low and out of his eyes as he worked. He was muttering to himself as he jotted the symbols down in his notebook. As she brushed his shoulder to let him know she was there, he turned and frowned.

"Can't you figure out a way to get my camera to focus in the dark?"

"How about if I aim my light down while you point the camera?"

"Oh! Great idea. Let me just...okay. I'm ready."

Sam nodded and pointed her P-90's light to the floor. Beside her Daniel held up his small digital camera and squeezed the shutter button. A brilliant flash of white from the flash illuminated them both with the strobe-like effect, giving Sam a glimpse of the room as a whole.

"Hey!" O'Neill's voice echoed from the other side of the room.

"Sorry, Colonel, Daniel was just–"

A loud rumbling sound filled the cavern and suddenly what little natural light they had from the large, open doorway was gone. Sam hadn't realized just how much even that feeble light had comforted her until it wasn't there. At least she still had the light on her–

Daniel, startled by the rumbling and the apparent blocking of their only escape route swung around suddenly. "Hey!"

Sam turned to swing her light up just as Daniel twisted around. A loud crack! sounded as his hand, still holding his digital camera, impacted with the light on Sam's weapon. The light blinked out, plunging them both into utter blackness.

"Ow!"

"Daniel!"

"Oh!"

"Crap," Sam muttered.

"Major!" O'Neill's voice snapped out across the chamber. "Report!"

She turned to where the light on his weapon illuminated their position. "We're okay, Sir!" Sam leaned toward Daniel. "You _are_ okay, aren't you, Daniel?"

"Yeah, but I think my...oh yeah. It's dead. Your P-90 ate my camera."

"Daniel, I'm pretty sure your camera belted my weapon."

"Either way–"

"Carter, don't move. We're on our way back to–OW! Dammit!"

"Sir!" Sam fought the urge to race across the cavern toward O'Neill's voice. As he'd yelled, the small light on his P-90 had blinked out, extinguishing the last source of light they'd brought with them.

"Holy...stay put, Carter. Teal'c! You gotta watch where you're swinging that thing!"

Teal'c's deep voice carried across the cavernous space. "I am approximately five-hundred yards from your position O'Neill."

"Oh. What the hell did I...oh. Damn. That thing."

"Do you require assistance, O'Neill?"

"Ah...no. But my light's had it. See if you can open the door, T. I'm going back to Carter and Daniel."

"We're pretty much where you left us, Colonel."

"Yeah, I figured that from Daniel's camera. We've talked about that, haven't we, Daniel?"

"Jack, I didn't _touch_ anything! It was just a–"

"Yeah. I know. Just keep talking so I can find you."

Sam could hear him shuffling around in the dark as he cautiously made his way back to where she stood waiting. Daniel sighed and she heard the telltale click of his pack being released. He began muttering to himself and she could hear him begin to rummage through his pack.

O'Neill's voice again carried across the dark empty space to them. "Hey, T. Where was that–?" A loud thunk followed by a string of curses heightened Sam's tension. "OW! Found it. I think I...Damn."

"Sir?"

"Oh for..."

"Colonel! What's going on? Are you–?"

"Stuck. I'm stuck, Carter."

Sam listened and heard him grunting and cursing softly. Eventually he spoke up again.

"I think you guys need to come to me."

Again Sam fought down the urge to just rush blindly across the chamber. She tapped Daniel on the shoulder. "C'mon, Daniel. Keep your hand on my shoulder, okay?"

"Yeah. Just a sec. I'm sure I have a–"

Sam shook her head impatiently. "_Now_, Daniel. Let's move." She blindly reached down, grabbed his pack out of his hands and with her other hand hauled him to his feet. She shoved the pack into his hands and pulled him forward.

"I...okay, Sam. Okay. I'm coming."

"Teal'c? Where there any other hazards going that way?"

Teal'c's voice sounded eerily far away as he answered. "I believe O'Neill had discovered the only obstacle we encountered. However, I would advice caution."

"Now he says that." The Colonel's sarcastic comment brought a smile to Sam's face.

"Daniel Jackson. I require your assistance. I have found our entrance and can feel markings along the edge."

"Sam?"

"Can you find your way to Teal'c?"

"Pretty sure. It was a straight shot from there to here. About forty paces."

Anxious to get to the Colonel, Sam decided Daniel would be okay on his own. "Okay, but go slow and be careful." She turned back to where she thought the Colonel was. "Sir? I need you to keep talking so I can get to you." She paused, waiting for him to say something to give her a clearer idea of direction.

"Marco."

The smile on Sam's face broadened to a full-fledged grin and she shook her head. Behind her she heard Daniel bite back a chuckle as he left her side to find Teal'c. Playing along she answered, "Polo," and took another ten cautious steps forward.

She could hear the laughter in O'Neill's voice as he said again, "Marco."

"Polo," she responded, delighted with his humor despite their situation.

They continued their call-and-answer, his voice guiding her forward until she suddenly felt him before her. "Hi, Sir."

"Carter. Nice of you to join me. Does this mean you're 'it' now?"

"Actually, Sir. I think since I found _you_, that makes you 'it.'"

"I've always wanted to be the 'it' guy, Major."

Sam squatted down beside her CO. "So...what's, um...stuck, Sir?"

"My foot. There's this...uh, no Carter. That's not my leg."

Groping her way across the floor, Sam had reached up and blindly felt for him. Certain she'd found his leg she began feeling her way down when his words stopped her. Sam was certain her blush would light up the entire chamber. "Let me guess, Colonel, your sidearm?"

"Actually, Carter. Yes. Here, wait." He grabbed her hands and guided her to where his foot was twisted and tangled in a small hole in the floor.

"Oh. Wait, Sir. I think I...here. If you slide back like this...then I can...." Sam gently guided his leg back and then reached out, carefully turning while her other hand felt along his foot and untangled the things that held him in place. Vines or wires, she couldn't tell in the darkness, only that they held her CO's foot securely in place. As she worked, O'Neill bent over her, reaching and pulling to help her.

"So...play Marco Polo a lot as a kid?"

"Yes, Sir. Mark and I. When we were...oh wait, no, Sir. Bend your ankle...yeah. Anyway, I guess I was ten and he was twelve. Dad was stationed at Wright-Pat and we had a pool. It was great. I don't think I got out of the thing except to sleep."

"Huh. Sounds like fun. Ow...wait, I don't bend that way, Carter. Let me...."

Sam caught her breath as O'Neill suddenly turned and bent low over her, his upper body covering her back. She took a deep breath and felt her back brush against his chest, he was that close. She could smell him behind her, and when he moved again his breath blew down across the back of her neck and her cheek. "Sir?" Sam breathed, her voice suddenly hoarse.

"Sorry, Carter, I...I think I've got it. Can you just...?" O'Neill put his hand on her shoulder and turned her sideways, so now she was almost face-to-face with him in the darkness. He reached out and slid his hand down over hers, guiding hers to somewhere behind his foot. "I can't quite reach and I think something's caught the eyelets...."

Closing her eyes, Sam fought to keep herself focused while his hand pulled hers down and around his foot. Her fingers fumbled as she found the taught little wire that seemed to have caught and twisted around the hooks on his boots. She brought her other hand down around the other side, determinedly blocking out the fact that she was, in effect, straddling him as he sat on the floor. She wasn't _on_ him, per se, but she was sitting with her feet planted to either side of his hips while she worked on his foot trapped on the floor beneath her legs. He was bent forward again, trying to help, which brought his face within inches of her own. For one wild, crazy second, Sam battled the urge to lean forward those last...few...inches and.... _Oh God. Please. _Frustrated, she gave whatever it was that was holding him a frantic, angry yank and was startled when she felt something give.

The sudden release of his restraints surprised her and Sam felt herself falling backward. Just as suddenly her momentum was stopped, and she felt O'Neill's hands on her arms, pulling her toward him.

"Easy, Sam. I've got you."

"Oh." Flustered and still overwhelmed with the sensation of having him so very close to her in the complete darkness, Sam couldn't form any other words. Couldn't even form a complete thought. All she could do was feel. He was there, inches from her face again, his hands on her arms, pulling her closer.

O'Neill's voice was soft as he asked, "Carter? You okay?"

Sucking in a breath, Sam eased herself back. "Yes, Colonel. Fine. Thanks. Good. Yes. Good."

"Sam." His voice was velvet in the darkness.

"Sir?" Her own was weak, even to her own ears.

"Help me up."

"Oh." Pushing aside a disappointment she didn't want to acknowledge, Sam slipped her professional mask back firmly in place. "Of course, Sir. Sorry. Here." She scrambled to her feet and reached down, blindly feeling for his hand. When she found it, she closed her eyes again at the sensation of his long, warm fingers wrapping gently around her own, tightening as he pulled himself up.

When he was on his feet she held onto his hand for a moment longer, reluctant to break their connection. "Sir? How's your ankle?"

O'Neill seemed just as willing to hold onto her, he slipped his hand deeper into hers and wrapped his fingers more tightly around her palm. She could feel him shifting and moving as he tested out his foot.

"Good. Seems okay."

"Good."

They stood there in the darkness, her hand still held in his and didn't say anything for a long moment. Finally, reluctantly, Sam started to ease herself free of his grip. As she did so, he tightened his grip in one last squeeze before letting go.

"Jack? Sam? I think we've got it over here. You okay?"

Sam answered as O'Neill bent to retrieve his gear. "Yes, we're okay. We'll join you in a minute." She turned again to O'Neill, listening as he slipped his pack back onto his shoulders. "Colonel? You okay?" Sam caught her breath as she felt him move closer.

"I am. How about you...Sam?"

"I'm good. I'm not the one who got stuck."

"That's not what I mean, and you know it." O'Neill sighed, a deep gusty sigh that blew across Sam's face, ruffling her bangs. "Different planet. Different room."

_Oh God._

Biting back the sudden wave of emotion, Sam could only close her eyes in the darkness. Giving in briefly to the need for comfort she stepped forward and let her head fall onto his chest, the only part of her touching him. Wrong or not, against the rules or not, sometimes she just needed...him. The contact with him. With "Jack," leaving "the Colonel" behind. To her left she could hear Teal'c and Daniel as they worked together to open the door. Their voices were low, muted. In the darkness they seemed so far away. It was almost as if it was just her and Jack alone here. She felt him take a deep breath before he spoke, his chest rising and falling against the weight of her forehead.

"Carter..." He hesitated and Sam could sense that he was struggling with what to say. "I...I don't really need a kids game to find you, you know."

"Sir?"

"I think I...I can always find you."

"I know." Sam took a deep breath, inhaling the warm scent of him, absorbing in. "I always know where you are...Sir." She blew out another breath. "And where you aren't," she added softly, the complete darkness giving her strength.

O'Neill's own voice was as soft as hers. "You don't have to say the words to let someone know you love them."

"I know."

"But...sometimes...the words are important too."

"Yes," she murmured.

"I love you," he said, his voice was quiet in the darkness, pitched low, meant only for her. She felt him bend his head low, his breath brushing across her ear. "You know that, right?"

Sam caught her breath in surprise. Stunned and awed by his confession, she finally let the words slip past her own lips. "I do. I love you_._"

"C'mere." She felt his arms come up around her and knew that he, too, needed these moments just as much as she did. His voice, when he spoke, was low and rumbled through her as she turned her cheek to rest it on his chest, pressed her chest to his and wrapped her arms up and around his back.

She wasn't really a 'fantasize about her guy' kind of girl, but she had let herself imagine, from time to time, what it would be like to hear him say the words. Not in a room with two aliens, a doctor, and an emotion-sensing gadget. Just him and just her. She'd pictured them on a beach, or in the mountains, or even sitting near the firepit in his back yard. She'd even imagined him saying those words to her in the dark. But never in a cave. On another planet. With Daniel and Teal'c one hundred yards away.

Somehow, however...it seemed just right.

- -

End.

Afterword: Okay, the "Marco Polo" bit is what popped into my head, the rest...guess the muse had something more to add.


	4. After

A/N: Another _Embrace Me_ story. I've searched high and low for post-ep fic for _The Other Side_ addressing what happened between Sam and Jack at the end. It wasn't until a recent discussion on the GW Family thread brought up this possibility that I thought it would make a good fic. Remember too, _The Other Side_ is the ep that happens just before the pivotal _Upgrades_ (said pivotal-ness doesn't become apparent for two more episodes, until _Divide and Conquer_, however). grin

As always, a fanfic writer's only pay is feedback.

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_**After**_

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Jack watched as Carter, her eyes dark with shock and . . . something else he couldn't identify, turned on her heel and strode down the ramp, leaving him behind. He quickly handed his weapon to the sergeant at arms and then quietly followed his team out of the gateroom and down the long corridors to the locker room. Daniel and Teal'c were already inside, the door was just swinging closed behind Carter, when he arrived. He stopped its motion and slipped inside, closing the door softly behind him. Daniel shot him a small smile and Teal'c offered a nod as he joined them at the lockers, neither man saying anything. Glancing quickly over to Carter's side of the room, he saw that she stood frozen before her own locker, her hands limp at her side, her shoulders rigid with tension. He blew out a breath through pursed lips, his emotions still reeling from this, their latest adventure.

He knew, should he ask her to show him, that he would see the energy spike that would signify the death of Alar, an 'impact event,' she'd call it . . . against their gate's shield. That's a euphemism he'd rather not hear again.

Jack had, knowingly and deliberately, ordered the iris closed, fully expecting the man to follow them through the gate, knowing he was ordering the man's death. In that moment the decision had been clear. Now . . . now he had to face his team. He'd embarrassed them, or at least Carter and Daniel. Publicly. First Carter, snapping at her as she explained to him what made heavy water, heavy. Later it was Daniel. Daniel, it seemed, had already forgiven him. Carter, too, had seemed okay. Okay until . . .

Jack sat on the bench, slowly unlacing his boots. He heard Teal'c's locker close and barely acknowledged the Jaffa's quiet statement telling him he was going to perform kel'no'reem. As he dropped one boot to the floor and began to undo the other, Jack felt Daniel behind him. He glanced up and watched as the young archaeologist worried at his glasses, opening and closing his mouth, clearly wanting to say something. The silence became too much for Jack.

"Daniel?" He asked softly. Beyond Daniel he saw Carter start slightly at the sound of his voice. She tilted her head and then began her own process of changing back into her on-base uniform.

"Jack, I . . ." Daniel took a long breath. "I . . . thank you."

Jack shook his head. "Don't, Daniel."

He didn't need to look up to sense the younger man's confusion. When he did look up, however, he saw Daniel and Carter exchange glances. Saw her silent affirmation of his request. As he unbuttoned his overshirt, he considered that it should bother him that Daniel Jackson looked to Carter after he, Jack, gave him an order. He'd seen it before, several times while they were among the Eurondans, in fact. He supposed it was only natural, the two doctors were closer in age, and Daniel obviously related better to women than to men, but . . .. Jack shrugged. He really couldn't bring himself to care right now. Let Daniel check with Carter. He, Jack, certainly did often enough. Shrugging out of his dusty and sweaty overshirt, he balled it up and stuffed it into his laundry bag, then reached for a clean t-shirt, shaking it slightly to hide the fold-marks. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Carter's back was turned, noting absently that Daniel had left them alone, then stripped off the dirty tee to replace it with the new one.

Jack stood and undid his trousers just enough to allow him room to tuck in his clean t-shirt. He could hear Carter's boots hitting the floor as she followed his motions. He wondered what she was thinking. Had wondered it since stepping through the gate and ordering the iris closed. Her wide, blue eyes had locked onto his, her distress and . . . fear? Her emotions playing so clearly across her expressive face that he'd been very glad she'd had her back to the room, to the all-seeing security cameras. Jack made himself go back over that moment again, pausing as he pulled out a clean overshirt. Had it been fear? Anger? Distress? Disgust?

He blew out a deep sigh and sank back down on the bench, shirt forgotten and draped across his knees.

Disgust.

Of course she'd feel disgust. Good officers didn't summarily execute members of other races. Not for any reason. And that's just what he'd done. Acted as judge and jury and just . . . ordered a man killed. Jack fought down the sudden churning in his stomach. He could face, and _had_ faced, just about everything, but . . . but the thought that Carter, that _Sam_, would be disgusted with him . . . that struck him at the very core of his being. He glanced down, surprised to find his hands trembling slightly where they sat atop his shirt. Suddenly he found himself loathe to look up. To look around, on the chance that their eyes might meet, that he might see . . . might confirm . . .

"Sir?"

Carter's soft voice, so very near, broke into the spiral of thoughts racing through Jack's brain. He sucked in a long, slow breath, then steeled himself to meet her gaze. Any disgust, any loathing she would show—and he fully expected to see it there—would pale in comparison to what he, himself was feeling. He felt her settle beside him on the bench, facing the door, her shoulder brushing, just barely . . . but brushing . . . his. Jack's voice was rougher than he liked when he answered, "Carter?"

Carter shifted beside him on the bench, looking down at her hands and then up at him. She glanced between them and then over to the door. "Sir, I just . . ." She stopped abruptly as a loud babble of voices passed by the locker room door. She jumped up and strode quickly to the door and, to Jack's utter shock, reached out and snapped the lock in place, effectively isolating them in the room.

Jack, half-turned on the bench to watch her, finally met her gaze, her blue eyes firmly on his as she determinedly walked back and rejoined him on the bench. Once again she sat opposite him, facing the door while he faced his locker. She held his gaze, her eyes wide and her expression open, allowing him to read her feelings. Jack could see that, for the first time since he'd known her, she held nothing back. Where there was normally a small part of her that he always felt she kept hidden, right now he knew . . . deep inside he _knew_ . . . that she was giving him the chance to see . . . her.

Why now? Why, when he'd expected nothing but rejection. Anger . . . disgust . . . at his decision. Why . . .. "Carter?" His query was soft, quiet, matching the intensity with which she was staring.

"I wanted you to know, Sir, that," Carter sighed quietly. "I know what you did was hard. Just now." She gestured with her chin, obliquely pointing in the general direction of the stargate. "The iris. I'll support your decision. In my report."

Jack kept his eyes on hers, needing to see her reaction to what he'd say next. "Your face, Carter. When I ordered the gate closed. You . . . I thought you . . . hated . . ."

Carter shifted to lay a hand on his arm, her eyes still on his, her expression still open to him. "No, Sir." She looked away, then her hand tightened briefly on his forearm before dropping away. "I . . ." Carter swallowed hard, her expression, which just a moment before had been so open was now tinged with . . . fear? Jack couldn't be sure. "Sir? Permission to say something completely out of line?"

Jack couldn't have been more surprised had she just asked him what the formula H2O meant. He simply nodded, almost afraid of what would come next from her. Then he realized she needed to hear the words. _Suck it up, Jack. She's gonna lay into you and doesn't want to catch shit for it._ "Carter, this is SG-1's locker room. Consider it our team confessional, okay? What we say here, stays here." He steeled himself for what he knew was coming next.

"If you saw anything up there, Colonel, you saw . . . pride. Respect. Lo–" She cut herself off and swallowed again, dropping her gaze away. Taking a deep breath, she clearly steeled herself to force her next words out. "I hated that they pushed us. Pushed _you_. To make the only decision you could. I . . . it made me almost sick."

Damn, he knew it. She _was_ disgusted with him. "Carter, I'm sorry. Put whatever want in your report. You don't need to protect me. I­–"

Carter shook her head sharply, interrupting him. "No. Don't misunderstand me. I was afraid, but only," she finally brought her gaze up to his again, "only for what it did to _you_. Sir."

To him?

_To_ him?

Jack froze, unable to look away. This . . . she couldn't . . . why? Why would she . . .? She was afraid _for_ him? Disgusted yes, but . . . _for_ him? For the position into which he'd been placed? He slowly shook his head in disbelief as the impact of what she'd just said . . . and hadn't said . . . gradually sank in.

Carter, seeing his head shake, clearly felt she'd gone too far. "Colonel, I'm sorry." She stood, her face flushing red, her hands clenched tightly at her sides, reminding him of a doe about to run. "I apologize, Sir. I'll just­–"

"Wait." Jack's hand shot out before he could think, catching her wrist and pulling her back. He gave a gentle tug and waited until she was seated beside him again on the bench. He turned so that he was facing her, she once again facing into the room, he again facing out. Realizing he still held her wrist, Jack quickly let go, watching as she tangled her fingers together tightly in her lap. Wanting . . . needing . . . to put her at ease, he spoke, his voice low and rough. "Carter, I thought you . . . you looked like you . . . _hated_ . . . me." Shrugging uncomfortably, Jack looked back into his locker. "I guess I thought I'd just confirmed everything you'd ever heard about me. And . . . that made me si­–"

"You did."

"What?"

Carter's expression had softened while he spoke, and he realized she didn't resemble a frightened deer anymore. In fact, she looked stronger, more secure. "You, when you ordered the iris closed, you _did_ confirm everything that I'd heard. And everything that I'd seen for myself the past three and a half years. That, when it comes down to it, you'll make the hard decisions. That you_ can_ make them."

"I almost made the wrong one."

She kept her eyes on his and just nodded, waiting for him to continue. When he did, he knew he needed this, a chance to vent. A safe place . . . and person . . . with whom he could exorcise his demons. Jack lifted his hand and ran it carelessly through his hair, unaware that her eyes followed his movement, her gaze resting for a long moment on the strands he'd pushed upright at various angles. "Arrogance. Sheer arrogance." He stood, pacing the small room in his stockinged feet, his movements restless, agitated. "My God, Carter. In my arrogance, in my need, Earth's need, I almost helped out a country's Hitler gain more power than any one man should have!"

"Yes, Sir."

Her quiet words cut through his musings, cut through his anger. "Then . . . when it all went to hell . . . Carter. I . . . I executed him." Disgust and self-loathing laced his words now, and Jack was unaware of anything but his need to move, to strike out, to . . . "I acted as judge and jury. God! Even the criminals at Nuremberg got a _trial_!"

"Sir." Carter spoke up. When he didn't respond she stood and blocked his path, forcing him to stop, to see her.

"Sir. Stop." She placed a hand on his chest to physically stop his movements.

"Stop." This time her voice was softer, gentler. They stood together, in the center of the dimly lit locker room, their faces in shadow. Jack, without his boots on, was nearer to Carter's own height. She, with her boots on, stood so that her shoulders were nearly level with his. "Colonel, don't do this to yourself. You did what needed to be done. Daniel told me that the Eurondans were interested only in 'genetic purity.'" She shuddered slightly, her slender frame reacting to the inherent evil in the concept. "I told you, Colonel, you made the right decision. We _all_ know that," she continued, gesturing to the empty room with her chin, indicating the absent Teal'c and Daniel. "We _do_," she said again as the disbelief Jack felt clearly showed on his face.

He studied her for a long moment before dropping his gaze away, looking down to focus instead on where her hand rested on his chest, her fingers curled slightly into the soft cotton fabric of the black t-shirt. He could feel the warmth of her hand seeping into his skin, into his soul, warming him. Healing him. Jack could see that she meant what she'd said, he could feel it.

"Thank you, Carter." Jack reached up and pulled her hand away from his chest, his fingers wrapping around her palm and squeezing briefly for a moment.

Carter tipped her head up and met his gaze, her eyes warm and full of . . . this time it was a different something that he couldn't quite identify. She smiled and stepped back out of his personal space, giving him room to return to the bench to dress.

Jack started to step around her, then stopped. He turned slowly toward her, his eyes on her face. He deliberately glanced past her to the locked door and then back, seeing that she'd caught the flash of his gaze. "Carter . . . since we've agreed to keep things said in here . . . in here, can I ask you something?"

Carter's wary glance spoke volumes to him, but he kept his expression as bland as possible, waiting for her to agree. When she did, he reached out and caught her shoulders. "Would it be completely out of line to ask for a hug?"

He almost chuckled despite himself as her jaw dropped open and her eyes, if that was even possible, widened even further. Finally, her eyes filling slightly, she simply nodded and stepped into his welcoming embrace.

Jack drew in a long, steadying breath, filling his senses with the scents that were uniquely Carter. Her hair still slightly damp from sweat, the sweet smell of her shampoo and the subtle undertones of whatever it was that she used on her skin. _The essence of life itself_, he thought. She slipped one arm around him, her hand warm and solid against his back while her other arm slid up over his shoulder to grip his shoulder. Jack pulled her closer, one hand pressed to the small of her back and the other cupping the back of her head, tangling in her short, softly curling hair. He tucked his head against hers, savoring the moment. Her grip on him tightened and Jack's eyes drifted closed as his head tipped down. His lips found the soft shell of her ear and he whispered, "Thank you, Sam. I've had a _really_ bad day."

Carter's voice was muffled against his shoulder and he felt her body shake as she chuckled softly in response. "I know, Sir. Me too."

Time stopped for him as they held each other in the small room. Arms around one another, heads bent close, offering comfort, support, friendship, and . . . love. Suddenly, Jack's day didn't seem so bad after all.

- -

End.

Afterword: Great. How on Earth will I write a_ Campfire_ after this? Yikes!


	5. Goodbyes

A/N: Another _Embrace Me_ story. This one is set inside of _Forever in a Day._ More happens after this scene, but you'll find that in the _Campfire_ I posted today (_Inter Spem et Metum_). Episode synopsis: GateWorld: During a rescue of captured Abydonians, Daniel finds his missing wife, Sha're. But instead of greeting him, she attacks him—leading to her death at the hands of Teal'c. Distraught over her death and angry at Teal'c, Daniel quits Stargate Command.

As always, a fanfic writer's only pay is feedback. Thanks to Leiasky for the fast beta. You rock, lady.

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_**Goodbyes**_

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Sam, her eyes blinded by tears, jammed her finger harshly against the elevator button, cursing under her breath as she heard the thing slowly lumber up to their floor. Behind her she heard a door close and footsteps approach. She pushed the button again, desperate now to get the doors open so she could duck inside. _Dammit, c'mon! _Stupid slow elevator.

"Carter." O'Neill's voice was low, his voice rough with emotion.

"Sir." She sniffed, keeping her face turned away. "I've called the damned thing." She stabbed at the button again, then spun on her heel toward the stairway. "The hell with it, Colonel, I'm taking the stairs." Two quick strides had her at the doorway and she slammed it open, rushing to get out of his sight before her tears fell.

A strong hand on her arm stopped her. The hand slid down the leather of her coat, brushing across her wrist and wrapping itself around her hand. Sam's breath caught in her throat and she fought back the sob that threatened to crawl out of her throat.

The hand tugged at her, forestalling her as she tried to descend onto that first step. The Colonel's voice was softer, quieter. Just as pained. "Sam."

She turned, her arm still outstretched between them, her eyes firmly focused on the floor. His other hand came up and gently . . . firmly . . . tipped her chin up until she was forced to meet his gaze. The hallway was lit only by a single bulb on the floor above, the one on this floor having been broken who knew how many years before. His face was in shadow, the light just catching his eyes as he kept his warm gaze on her face.

There was pain there, she could see. A mirror of her own. Sadness. Loss. An ache. His pain, and . . . hers, reflected.

This time she couldn't fight the sob that rose up and she choked on it, shaking her head against it.

"Carter . . . c'mere." With the smallest of tugs O'Neill pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her, one hand sliding down to nestle in the small of her back and the other threading through her hair to rest, warm and comforting, on the back of her neck.

"Sir, I . . ." Sam sobbed, her face pressed against the smooth leather of his jacket. The smell of him, mixed with the rich leather of his jacket, eased through her, calming her, soothing her.

"Shh, Sam. Shh. It's okay."

She gave herself up to his embrace, savoring the essence of Jack O'Neill and the comfort of his arms around her. The ache of Daniel's leaving, a pale reflection –but still painful–of seeing his pain at the loss of his lovely Sha're, retreated in the face of the warmth of . . . him. She hurt, she realized, for more than just Daniel. Or for Daniel and Sha're. She hurt for the loss of what they stood for. For some reason that loss was more painful that the combined hurt of everything else. It was that pain that tore at her. If it couldn't work for Daniel, the sweetest person she'd ever met, what hope had she, Sam?

They stood together, arms around one another, giving and receiving the comfort they so often set aside in the face of everyday pressures. But here, in this dimly lit stairwell, away from the prying eyes of the world, enemy and friend, they took comfort from one another.

Moments, hours, weeks later, Sam regained some measure of control. She eased back, shyly meeting O'Neill's gaze. "Thank you, Sir." She gratefully took the handkerchief O'Neill fished from a pocket, wiping her eyes and cheeks. She, as surreptitiously as she was able, inhaled the musky aroma of his cologne from the small piece of cloth, closing her eyes briefly as her body absorbed the scent.

"You okay?"

Sam shook her head. "Not yet, but . . ." She shrugged, giving him a watery smile. "I will be."

O'Neill jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, rocking back on his heels. He glanced at the door through which they'd both come, back toward Daniel and his new life. "Ah . . . Carter. You hungry?"

Slightly startled by the change of topic, Sam looked up at him. He met her gaze, then looked away. Down.

Oh.

He didn't want to go home anymore than did she. Sam gave him a small smile. "I think . . . yeah. I'm hungry, Sir."

O'Neill nodded, flashing her a tiny almost-smile. "Pizza?"

Sam shook her head and started down the stairs. "Chinese." She stopped on the first landing and looked back at him. "Do you think . . . it's not too late, is it, Sir? For a fire?"

The Colonel stepped down onto the landing, moving closer to her. "Sam, if you want a fire, I'll build you a fire."

She gave him a grateful smile, glad he understood her need as well as she did his. She needed some more time with . . . at least part of her team tonight. A fire would be just the thing.

- -

End.

Afterword: There's more to this, but it worked better as a _Campfire_. Check out Season 3's _Inter Spem et Metum._

Second Afterword: It's been brought to my attention that the events of this episode never really happened, it was all in Daniel's mind. Huh. Who knew? So...it's your choice. Believe that it happened and therefore the events of this story happened as well...or not. Either way, it's all fiction in the end, right?


	6. Walking After You

A/N: Another _Embrace Me_ story. This one is set after _Entity_, and written specifically for Amanda, by request_._ And thanks to Amanda for being available to beta it on short notice at 10:30 at night. And, let me just say, thank you to the folks who've written and wondered where I am. Facing a new teaching term, doctoral term, and pending back fusion surgery has put me a bit off of my writing game. I _need_ to write, and have been feeling the lack. I will endeavor to do better. Happy 2010, belatedly, to everyone.

As always, a fanfic writer's only pay is feedback. Enjoy.

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_**Walking After You**_

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Jack pulled to the curb, sliding the truck's transmission to Park before turning off the engine. He sat quietly, fingers tapping an absent tattoo on the steering wheel as he studied the neatly kept house set back on the bright green lawn. As he'd expect from his Second, not a blade of grass was out of place, and the low white fence looked recently painted. Taking a second look, Jack realized that the flowerboxes could use some attention and he found himself imagining for a moment puttering in the dirt with Carter while they . . . he shook his head. _Let it go, Jack._

He blew out a loud breath, reached across the bench seat and gathered up the small stack of papers piled there, then shoved his shoulder against the door as he slid out. _Just . . . get it over with._

Making his way up the walkway, he was too preoccupied with his thoughts to notice the stunning sunset painting the sky behind the house. Nor the cheerful Saturday afternoon sounds of the neighborhood. Once on the porch, he knocked his standard three raps, then turned and leaned against the door, fighting the urge to fidget. He glanced down and was surprised to find the forms he'd so carefully stacked earlier now rolled into a tight tube, slightly dented at the middle from the pressure of his grip. Jack frowned at the papers, then made a conscious effort to relax his hands. This was . . . yeah, this was a mistake. Not bothering to knock again, he straightened and stepped away from the door, just as it opened behind him.

"Sir?"

Carter's sleep-laden voice halted him mid-stride. Jack turned and felt his heart lurch at the sight of an obviously still sleepy Carter yawning and leaning against her doorframe, one hand covering a yawn while the other made an attempt to smooth her pillow-tossed hair. He opened his mouth and quickly shut it again, at a complete loss for words.

Blinking sleepily up at him, Carter frowned in confusion. "Sir?"

"I, ah . . . I woke you. Sorry. I should –"

"Sir." Carter reached out and laid a hand on his arm, stopping him before he could pull away. "I'm good. I mean, I'm awake. I was just . . ."

"Napping?"

Tossing a sheepish grin over her shoulder, she chuckled, and the sound went straight to Jack's heart. "Yeah, I guess I was." She waved him toward the kitchen stools while she circled the counter and opened the fridge. "Um, I've got . . . hmm. Diet cola, um, tea, and . . . ," her voice trailed off as she searched for more drinks.

Jack's eyes widened as Carter's upper body disappeared into the fridge, and he quickly glanced away as her backside rose as she bent lower. He hastily cleared his throat. "Ah, Carter, I'm goo–"

"Ah HA!" Triumphantly holding a bottle high, she turned and placed it on the counter between them. "I knew I had one of these left over from the last barbeque."

Jack swallowed hard as he twisted to top off of the very cold Guinness bottle. "Thanks."

"No problem." She shot him another small smile as she turned and began filling the kettle with water.

Jack watched her, his thoughts echoing with Hammond's words earlier in the week.

_Jack moved to follow Daniel, Fraiser, and Teal'c following Hammond's dismissal. He paused as the general raised a hand, delaying his exit._

"_Sir?"_

"_We may have to make some difficult choices. I know that Major Carter means a great deal to you."_

_Steeling himself, Jack choked back the first words that rose in his throat, instead forcing his voice to remain steady. "She's a very valuable member of my team, Sir." He kept his eyes low, then realized that by doing so he couldn't judge Hammond's reaction. Very slowly, Jack lifted his gaze to meet the general's. There it was, just as he'd somehow always assumed it would be. Caring. Compassion. Understanding. Jack kept his expression as bland as possible, hoping that even his little eye tic wouldn't betray him this time._

_After a moment that seemed an eternity to Jack, Hammond simply nodded and agreed with him. "Yes, she is."_

_Ducking his head, Jack strode quickly from the room, gritting his teeth against what he was sure was coming next._

"Colonel?"

"Hmm?" Jack blinked, surprised to find Carter leaning on the counter, resting her weight on her elbows, her hands cradling a steaming mug of tea. "Sorry, Carter, what?"

"I asked if you were cold, Sir. You kind of . . . shivered." She lid her mug forward. "I could make you a cup, if you'd like."

"No. Thanks. Beer's fine."

"Okay."

He watched as she fiddled with her spoon, knowing she was wondering why he was there. Sucking in a deep breath, Jack reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the now slightly tattered paperwork he'd been clutching when she opened the door.

"Sir, I–"

"Carter,–"

"Sorry, Sir. Go ahead."

"Okay. Thanks." Jack took a long, calming swallow of his Guinness. "I've had to do some . . . things in my life, Carter. Some damned distasteful, some . . . well. Not as bad. But, last week, I . . ." Jack shook his head, then shoved the papers toward Carter. "I think you need someone else on these papers, Carter."

Without a word, Carter took the papers from him, smoothing them out as she recognized them. "It's my Advanced Directive and Durable Medical Power of Attorney." She shook her head, clearly puzzled. "I'm sorry, Colonel, I don't–"

"Carter, it nearly killed me, you know. Killing _you_. Then . . . then I had to do it _again_. Fraiser wanted to do it, to follow your wishes, and I . . ." Jack stood abruptly, slamming his half-empty bottle of beer onto the counter. He strode angrily to the sink and glared out of the windows. Damn it. _Damn it!_ They'd come so close. _So unbelievably close._ He'd asked Fraiser for a minute, his mind racing for other options, every sense trained in the woman on the bed, looking for any sign, even the most _minute_, that _she_, that Sam Carter, was still in there. He'd known her wishes, they'd talked about it, all of them. Well, not all of them. He'd never felt the need to name someone. When she'd asked him to be her DMPA he'd agreed, blithely believing that he'd never have to make that decision.

And in the colossal unfairness of the universe, he'd had to make the decision after being the person to put her in that position in the first place. Then when the time came, he couldn't. Couldn't decide. Couldn't let go.

Well, no more. He knew how he felt about her, and she him. They'd acknowledged it, at least to each other. _And to Teal'c, Fraiser, and Anise or Freya–whoever was plugged in at the time –but who's counting? _They'd said it, then they'd agreed to not say it again. At least not until . . .

And suddenly, there was no 'until.' There would never be. Because he'd killed her, and because he couldn't.

Carter's whisper startled him and Jack turned slowly, leaning against the counter, his hands fisted in the pockets of his khaki trousers. "What?"

"I said, I'm sorry, Sir." Carter leaned back against the counter, her own hands tucked up under her armpits, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. "I . . . when I asked you to be my DMPA, I only thought about not having Daniel do it." She gave him a wan smile. "You know Daniel, I figured he'd want to, I don't know, negotiate with Death, or something."

"Drag it out."

"Yeah." Carter shrugged. "But, that was before . . . before." She raised her blue eyes to his, her gaze searching, intense.

Jack nodded, understanding that she, too, was thinking of their confession before Teal'c, Fraiser, and the Tok'ra agent. "Yeah, _before_." He watched as Carter straightened and took a step closer to him.

"And I never imagined that . . ."

"That _I'd_ be the one to shoot you?"

Carter took another step forward, closing the distance between them until she was close enough that her crossed arms brushed his. She was still wrapped tightly, her arms hugging herself. Jack could feel the tension radiating off of her. "Yeah. That, too."

"So, you see why, Carter, I can't–"

"No."

"–be the one to . . . what? _'No'_?"

"Ah . . . no . . . Sir."

Jack shook his head. "I don't care about the 'sir,' Carter. Whaddya mean, 'no'?" He watched as she ducked her head and tried really hard not to notice how her t-shirt stretched tightly across her chest with her arms crossed. Or how those crossed arms served to emphasize that fact. Finally, in self-defense, he reached down and lifted her chin with his index finger. If his thumb brushed gently across her cheek as he did so, he assured himself that it was an accidental touch. Mostly. "C'mon, Carter. Spill."

Carter's blue eyes were bright, luminous as she gazed up at him. "Colonel, do you trust me?"

"With my life."

"And I trust you with mine."

Jack dropped his hand, but when he would have returned it to his pocket she stopped him. Holding his hand in hers, she stood there, one hand holding his, the other still tucked up under her armpit. "Colonel, please. Nothing's changed. In fact," she paused and glanced away quickly before meeting his gaze again. "Last week proves to me that I made the right choice. It was you, Sir, who was willing to do what needed to be done, and that saved me."

Yanking his hand from hers, Jack slipped past her to slam his hands down on the counter. "No! Carter, jeez! Can't you . . . I _killed_ you! I fired that damned zat at you not once, but _twice!_ Knowing full well that two shots kill!" He punctuated each statement with a slapped hand on the counter, making the bottle and mug rattle in protest.

Jack was so angry, still so incredibly angry at the feelings of fear and helplessness that had overwhelmed him that he didn't hear her approach until she was there, pulling him around. Suddenly his arms were full of warm, soft Carter, one arm sliding around his waist and the other up and over his shoulder, pulling him down to her.

"C'mere, Sir."

For a moment, Jack let everything go. He responded to her touch as he knew he always would. Molding himself to her shape, he ducked his head down into her neck, absorbing that elusive and oh-so-tantalizing Carter-scent that intrigued him. She smelled as she always did, with an additional overlay of sleepy-Carter added to the mix. His arms encircled her, and as he pulled her closer, reveling her warmth, his last conscious thought was, _Don't touch her butt or it's all over!_

Long moments–or a lifetime, Jack wasn't sure–passed while they held each other, the crumpled papers forgotten on the counter. He wasn't entirely certain who was trembling, him or her, and found that he didn't really care. He was content to hold and be held. He needed it, as he suspected she did too. He only let go when he felt her loosening her grip on him. Easing back, Jack guided them both to the counter to give them something to lean against. He was reluctant to break their connection and was relieved when Carter slid her hand down to his and held on. She placed their entwined fingers on the papers.

"Sir. If you . . . if you really can't do it, then I'll find someone else. But . . ." She ducked her head and swallowed audibly. When she raised her head, unshed tears sparkled in her eyes. "I really can't imagine anyone else having my back but you, Colonel. I hope you'll reconsider."

Jack gazed at her for a long moment, then slowly nodded. "I will, on one condition."

Smiling up at him, she said, "Name it."

"You do the same for me." Jack knew the moment the realization hit her, that he was asking her to be the one to terminate his life if it became necessary. And with that realization came an understanding of his position. Of his pain at having to make that decision. _Now you understand, Carter, why I can't–_

"I will, on one condition, Colonel," she said, mirroring his earlier agreement.

"Name it, Major." He could play the copycat game too.

"That we'll always be out there together, to watch each other's back, making all of this moot."

"Moot? I always thought it was 'moo.'"

"Sir."

"Deal."

- -

End.

Afterword: I don't tend to work as hard at keeping these _Embrace Me_ stories as properly in canon as I do the _Campfires_. So if we veer into the realm of "possibility" and away from "awful TPTB reality" from time to time, bear with me. Or not. Your choice.


End file.
